songs from the deep
by racketeering
Summary: Four years years ago, Marinette left Paris. Four years ago, Marinette left Ladybug behind. Four years ago, Marinette didn't say goodbye. And now she's going to pay the price. angstish marichat and adrinette. au. older!marinette&adrien.
1. what will you fall for

**summary: Four years years ago, Marinette left Paris. Four years ago, Marinette left Ladybug behind. Four years ago, Marinette didn't say goodbye. And now she's going to pay the price. angstish ladynoir and marichat. au. older!marinette &adrien.**

 **pairings: all the variations of marinette and adrien.**

 **sidenote: this was originally supposed to be a secret santa gift but i felt bad so imma post it here pls tell me i suck**

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 _"Mom_ , _"_ her voice croaked out, her hands reached forward to touch her mother's face, afraid that she would fade into the pale sheets of the hospital bed if she waited even a second longer.

"My daughter," her mother gave her a watery, weak smile. "I've missed you."

"Me too," Marinette gasped, seeing her strong mother in such an ardent state of weakness set her eyes ablaze, it wasn't fair, it wasn't _fair -_ "I didn't mean to leave so suddenly, I'm sorry-"

"Shhh," her mother consoled, lightly sliding her hand across her daughter's silky, long hair, now dipping to her lower back versus the way it used to sweep across her shoulders before she left Paris. "You were chasing your dream, Marinette. I understand. I'm so - _so_ proud-" her mother stopped speaking in order to cough violently, the sides of the bed shaking with her tremors. Tears shrouded Marinette's vision and she frantically tried to swallow the harsh lump in her throat - she _had_ to be strong, she _had_ to be strong for her mother, and for her father, too.

"Mom, don't worry - I'm gonna be here, _right_ by your side," she inhaled erratically between each word, struggling to maintain equilibrium in tone as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Her mother's hand lingered on her cheek and she gave her a grateful look. They could do it - together they could.

"Thank you, Marinette." Her father told her after they had been excused from her mother's room due to her exhaustion. His voice was whispery and hoarse. He'd been crying, too. "Thank you so much for coming, I know you're busy, and I know you're living your dream, but-"

"Dad," Marinette interrupted him hastily, "it's fine, I _had_ to be here. I can work from Paris for the next few months, it's fine, Miss Lenden approved it."

Her dad smiled nostalgically. "Maybe I shouldn't keep you then, I heard you'd rented an apartment? Are you sure you don't want to stay at home? We can get your room ready-"

"It's fine, I'll be working late most nights anyways." Marinette reassured him. It was true - it was hard enough getting an actual break from Miss Marina Lenden, world renowned fashion designer and _diva_ \- but after months and months of interning and pandering and holding her tongue, Marinette had climbed the ranks high enough to hold her position even in adversity. She'd survive - she always did.

"Goodnight, dad." she told him tightly, wrapping her thin arms around his broad shoulders and pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. That was what she was here for. Support.

As she walked home from the hospital, streets lulled to sleep by the stars and eyes soaking up the sights of what she used to call her home, she watched the buildings pass with a lonely, longing regard. She'd missed Paris. She'd missed the sights, the smells, the feeling of the roofs under her feet as she'd swing from building to building - not a care to be spotted.

Back when she was _Ladybug -_ so much more than plain, aspiring Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she seemed to hold the world in her hands back then, when she could be more focused on winning the heart of a simple boy than winning the trust of her employer.

Her life had been forever derailed since that day – four years ago. She had only been eighteen, but she _knew_. Paris couldn't confine her, she needed to leave.

…And so, she did.

With spirited goodbyes that lasted as long as sugar tasted, she took the first train out of Paris, to Milan Italy, where she began working for her dream – to become a world famous fashion designer.

Of course, with four years in and nothing to show for it, that sailed her ship off course, but now that she was working under and closely with Marina Lenden…it was only a matter of time.

She just needed to _wait for it._

Shadows danced across the windows of the buildings she passed, shapely, like they were moving on their own instead of with her.

And…she could've sworn, that just in the corner of her eye, a black cat patrolled the city – watching&protecting its claim. Now that brought back memories. Memories of the boy she never got to say goodbye to.

She glanced downward and sighed. That didn't matter now. All she needed was her mother's recovery, and enough time to make her mark on the world.

.

.

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"Marinette," Tikki warned, eyes hazy from the lack of sleep. "It's 3 am – _why_ are you still awake?"

Marinette blinked at the clock, _surely_ she was mistaken.

The numbers glared brightly in contrast to the plain atmosphere of the apartment. 3:18.

"I…just need to finish this last document for Miss Lenden, then I can sleep." She told her. Tikki sighed.

"You've been working so hard, you're clearly stressed out. You should take a break and relax tomorrow." Tikki advised her. Marinette gave her a small nod.

"That sounds amazing, but…" she trailed off, staring at the piles of papers spread thin across her desk. "I don't know if I'll be able to…"

Tikki jumped onto her shoulder and pressed her head up against Marinette's neck. She sighed and patted her kwami on the head before yawning. The glaring streetlight had been itching at her eyes for the past hour, and she was aching to go to sleep, even though she still had a few more papers to sign off on…just a few more…

Her gaze flickered to her bed. But then again, just a _few_ papers could wait until morning, right?

Deciding to heed Tikki's advice, she stood up and stretched her weary limbs, before moving over to the shades to close them. Her hair, still curling from her shower (where she had cried for twenty minutes straight – seeing her mother so physically drained took a toll on her, too) swept across her shoulders and smelt like jasmine. At least she felt clean.

Her hand grazed the shades and she was about to pull them down before she stopped dramatically, staring up at the opposite building in awe.

A shadow stood at the top, standing tall and luminous, like a statue of grace.

-it was _him_.

It was him, it was him, it was _him –_ so he _was_ still here, he stayed, he stayed to protect Paris.

He did what she failed to do.

It was him.

But he was different than she remembered.

Chat Noir – in her memories, at least – was still a bit fuzzy, like a smile, or a smell from your past that you can't quite recall, but you still recognize it when it resurfaces.

She remembered Chat Noir to stand tall, cocky, confident, but _this_ Chat Noir was different. Still tall, but more powerful – towering, almost, like Paris was _his_ city – and it was his _only_ job to keep it safe from harm. His hair was longer, too. He was powerful, and fierce – he was a lion.

She felt herself smile a little bit – he had grown up. He was strong, and he didn't need her anymore.

Her smile faltered.

She wondered if he had forgiven her for what she'd done.

His stance changed and he leapt off the building, strong and graceful, before melting in with the shadows, dark as the sky itself.

She felt a sudden longing to chase after him – of all the things she'd left, he might've been her biggest regret. He'd trusted her – with his life, his heart – and yet, she'd had no trouble discarding that trust and leaving for Italy without so much as a wave goodbye.

She shut the windows tightly and choked on a dry sob, suddenly torn apart by regret.

She was so _selfish –_ she was Ladybug – _Miraculous_ Ladybug, who now used her miraculous as no more than a decoration on her wall. She was a fraud. A failure. She'd failed her parents, her career, her friends, and she'd failed Chat Noir – who'd loyally stand by her side at anything.

Before leaving for Milan all those years ago – following the broken trail to a dream she'd never reach – she promised herself she'd never cry herself to sleep again.

She supposed that most promises were made to be broken, anyways.

.

.

.

By the time she had woken up the next day – she was already stressed out. She'd managed to finish signing all of the papers, but since she was still technically _working –_ she already had an assignment. Luckily, it was only about as stressful as a final exam that would ultimately decide whether you live or die. Excellent.

Paris fashion. She had to take photos of civilians. Sounds easy, right? Wrong.

Turns out, people in Paris aren't really keen on letting strange girls take their picture! And even when she tells them not to worry, and that it's for _Marina Lenden of the Lenden Fashion Corporation,_ she only received scoffs and laughter.

Not to mention, taking pictures of people who were always on the move was _really_ hard.

Luckily – she found her solace in the park. One she recognized from teenage years, watching, sitting, waiting for boys to walk by and fawn over them, she remembered every bit of it.

Well – maybe the plural of boys wasn't really all that appropriate – she was _really_ waiting for was a certain boy.

Ah yes – Adrien Agreste. Despite herself, she had to laugh. How silly was it to be _obsessed_ with a boy for so long you forget your own name?

Being much older now – 22 years, to be exact – allowed her the ability to laugh at herself, but she remembered loving him so clearly she could swear that she'd fall right back in love with him if she ever saw him again.

That would never happen, though. Adrien was smart, attractive, successful. He would be out of Paris, or, if he was in Paris, he wouldn't be caught dead in a simple square like this. He ought to be surrounded by opulence and beautiful women. That was just the way it went.

Marinette snapped a quick picture of a group of kids playing by the fountain, and blinked heavily, still tired from the night before, all those tears had really taken her out of it.

"Marinette," she heard Tikki whisper from her purse, "do you see that over there?"

Marinette's eyes shifted to where Tikki was looking, over by the path heading straight towards the main street. Standing there were two people, walking closer to the center of the park, hand-in-hand. She was about to smile and take a picture, but she hesitated at the last second.

"That looks…like…"

"Alya." Tikki spoke for her. "And Nino. Do you think…?"

Marinette had already taken off towards the unlikely couple, bubbled with excitement and feverish nervousness. Would they recognize her? She looked more mature, older, and her hair was longer, but still, they had to! They _had_ to-

"Alya!" She said, the words dripping with excitement. Said woman turned to the sound of her name being called – and then, she completely froze.

Marinette continued to move towards them rapidly, what was she standing there for? Did she not recognize her?

"Alya," she repeated when she was close enough to see her facial expression, and the way the reddish tips of her hair glinted in the sun. "It's me! Mari-"

"Marinette." Alya finished for her, tucking a spare strand of hair behind her ear in a reserved manner. "You're in Paris…."

"Yeah! I'm-" Marinette blinked quickly. Why did Alya look so…weird?

"It's been a while." Nino concluded. Alya nodded in agreement.

"I didn't think you were going to come back." Alya admitted, a hint of bitterness escaping into her words. Marinette felt all of the color drain out of her face instantly.

How could she have been so naïve? Alya didn't want to talk to her – she probably never wanted to see her again! Marinette had left, with only a few words of goodbye, and never even _called._ So blinded by her own selfishness – Marinette had just walked into a room that no one wished her to be in.

"Alya." She spoke, voice as tight as her fake smile. "I've missed you."

"Have you?" Alya asked, voice and eyebrows raised in suspicion. "You sure didn't act like it. You know, a letter would've been nice."

Marinette bit her lip to keep it from quivering. She'd never felt so guilty in her entire life. Here she was – a full grown woman, feeling once again like a small child being reprimanded for stealing the last cookie.

"I'm…" she lost her own words for a second, overwhelmingly nervous. "…so sorry, Alya. I wanted to, I just…I didn't know who I was, or what I wanted anymore. I needed to escape."

Alya scoffed, sinking a knife deep into Marinette's heart. "Is that so? Well in that case, if you needed to escape so bad, why the hell did you come back?"

Marinette's senses shut down.

"My mother." She said sharply, eyes averted to the ground. "She's dying." She heard Alya's breath intake. At this point – she was having a lot of trouble swallowing that annoyingly familiar lump in her throat. _What had she done?_

"God, Marinette, I'm-" Alya swallowed, lowering her hand that had begun to raise, almost as if she wanted to pull Marinette into a tearful hug. "…I'm sorry. I really am."

Marinette said nothing. At this point, seeing all the broken ties she'd left in Paris, all she'd been feeling was regret, dead-set and heavy, ready to crush her in its wake at any given moment.

"We should go." Nino whispered, and Marinette felt her heart shatter.

"We'll see you around," Alya said in a less-than-convincing voice. Marinette, hugging her arms to her sides tightly, nodded without making eye contact. She listened to the sounds of their fading footsteps before she allowed the first tear to fall.

Her camera bounced on her hip as she made her way out of the park, forgetting about work or any of her responsibilities. Her only focus was getting some place where she could break down in peace. Away from prying eyes – away from Paris – away from her problems, all she did was _run, run, run-_

She caught herself off guard while she wasn't paying attention, accidentally smashing into a large man with a red cap. In fear of his wrath, she quickly stuttered an apology and moved on as fast as she could. She just had to get away, that's all she needed…

"Marinette, slow down!" Tikki whispered frantically as she crossed a busy street unwisely. Marinette was silent, wallowing in the mistakes of her past as she moved like a glacier – steady, forward, unyielding. She lost track of time and place, it was just _move, move, move_ – doesn't mater how fast or how soon, just _go-_

"Marinette!" Tikki shrieked, oddly loud, considering she was supposed to stay hidden. "You have to _stop_ – where are we?"

Marinette wiped a few stray tears from her eyes and looked up, squinting at the light of the already fading sun. She had no memory of this place, just blank buildings, blank street signs, blank faces.

Feeling suddenly panicked, she turned around, trying to remember which way she had come from. Left, right, straight?

Quick breath in, quick breath out. It's fine, she'd be fine, she just needed to _remember_ -

Her head jerked up. When did it get so quiet?

The streets were close to empty – like at the sound of her distress, they had scattered. The sun was far down enough that only small rays of light graced the sidewalks, and it was a deep, saturated yellow in color. This wasn't the Paris she remembered.

She looked out at the people she did see – a family across the street, hurrying to their car, a man in a red cap, a couple of teenagers exiting a coffee shop, but other than that…she was alone.

She shut her eyes, absorbing the remaining sounds in the atmosphere and calmly breathing in and out, over and over again.

When she opened her eyes, there was a surprise waiting for them.

There, across the street and looming above the apartment building complex by the candle shop, was Chat Noir.

….And he was looking right at her.

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 **fuck me i quit how did i get here**

 **so if I do end up continuing this, my plan is more fluff for marichat and adrinette, but more angst for ladynoir and ladrien, ya feel**

 **also i do not** **hate marinette i just like making her suffer bye**


	2. deal with the devil

**minor note – so yeah it hasn't been shown yet that chat can purify akuma, but in this canon, when ladybug isn't in paris, he's able to, ok? Just to clear that up for all yall ^_^**

 **.**

Marinette, shell-shocked from her run, only stared, open-mouthed and open-hearted, as he watched her from his perch on top of the building. He tilted his head to the side, that ever-present curiosity guiding him as he stood up, revealing his full, unprecedented height, before turning away and jumping down onto the next building, out of Marinette's sight.

She let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. He had noticed her, maybe even _recognized_ her. She recalled all the times she'd spoken to him as Marinette, his playful flirtatious initiative never wavering, and maybe, just _maybe –_ there was a small chance he had recognized her.

She shivered and wondered – if he had recognized her, did she really want to speak to him again? So far most of the reunions she'd participated in had been less than satisfactory.

"Marinette,"" Tikki gently pried, noticing her attitude shift after her Chat Noir sighting, "let's get home, you need some rest."

Marinette sighed, eyes still frozen in time to the spot where he had been. "You're right, let's get-"

Before she could end her sentence, something grabbed her roughly around the stomach, effectively choking the air out of her lungs and leaving her sputtering for breath as she was rocketed backwards. For a moment, she couldn't tell which way she was moving, up, down, sideways, and then, she felt the cutting force around her waist loosen and her feet touch the ground. She dizzily regained herself, and whirled around to hit her attacker, only landing one solid, pitifully weak punch.

"Calm down," a voice instructed her, slightly annoyed and slightly perplexed. Something grabbed her shoulders and held her grounded so she wouldn't fall over from being so dazed. It took her a half a second to realize exactly who had grabbed her.

"You're Chat Noir," she said, awe-stricken that he had chosen _now_ to unceremoniously kidnap her from the streets.

"That I am, now quiet." He pressed a long, slim finger to her lips and leaned over, absently scanning the streets below.

Wait – _below_? He'd _seriously_ grabbed her off the streets and thrown her onto the nearest rooftop?

Ready to object, she opened her mouth despite him still attempting to silence her. "You're so-"

" _Shhh_ ," he insisted, before taking his other hand and pointing it directly across the street. "Look."

Marinette squinted, the darkness of the sky making it harder to make out exactly what he wanted to show her. All that was across the street was the book store, which only had one person inside it seemed, sitting next to the window quietly reading.

Before she could ask him if this was some sort of stupid joke, she noticed it. A dull red hat sitting atop his head. It seemed familiar.

"What?" She spoke quietly, and then Chat Noir turned to look at her, green eyes burning like liquid. She'd swear she could recognize those illuminate eyes anywhere.

"He's been following you," he told her softly, like he had to ease the information into her. "I'm not sure why."

"Me neither," she said, licking her lips and suddenly feeling very, very small. How could she have missed him? She must have seen him four, five times as she was moving.

Chat Noir looked at her with a good amount of suspicion, and she finally had the opportunity to see him better under the dim light of the stars and the fading glow of the city. His face was more angular, more cut, and his jaw looked like it had been carved out of stone. His hair was a bit longer, and a bit darker, like he'd been out of the sun for a while.

The last thing she noticed was a scar just below his lip, something she knew had to have occurred within the timeframe that she was gone. It was jagged, pale and intimidating. She felt a pang of guilt resound in her gut – could that have happened while trying to recover an akuma?

She shivered. Maybe if she was there to protect him, he wouldn't have gotten it.

"Enjoying the view?" He teased her lightly. She blushed a tiny bit and removed her attention from him and back to the man in the red hat, who was now _clearly_ looking for something – whether that something was her or not, she may never know.

After a few minutes of silent watching and waiting, the man finally walked away, down the street back to the town centre.

Marinette let out a breath of anticipation and stared blankly at the street ahead, unsure of how to process this new information.

Chat cleared his throat, a subtle sign that he wanted her attention. She turned to look at him, extended to his full height (which was now even taller than it had been since she left) and his body was different, too. Not as lanky as it used to be, but still lean-muscled, not steroid-pumped but still impressive. He reminded her of a panther now – not the simple kitten that would follow her around Paris, now, he was a lone wolf. And it made her sad to see him so grown knowing that she had missed it all.

"Your hair," he finally said, eyes crinkled nostalgically. "It's longer."

She did a double take. He recognized her? She subtly touched the tips of her midnight hair and almost felt tears spring to her eyes – there was no malice behind his voice – like he was the only person who was _happy_ to see her back in Paris.

"It is," she agreed with him, twirling a curl absently. "Thank you."

He didn't bother asking her what she was thankful for – he probably sensed her gratitude on a different level. His small smile faded as he glanced back to the streets, alert as ever.

"You should keep an eye out," he advised her, suddenly serious like someone had shot him with an ounce of truth.

"Wait," she said, sending that he had been about to leave. He turned, just for a second, feet tipped on the side of the building, a cat ready to pounce.

"Are you…" she trailed off, unsure of how to word it without sounding weird. "Are you doing well?"

Surprisingly, his feet stopped tipping and he jumped back onto the ground beside her, expression beyond confused, like she had just asked to marry him or something else ludicrous.

His lips played into a sad, almost disbelieving smile.

"You know," he said, voice low and a little bit husky. "You're the first person to ask me that in almost four years."

He was so close now she could smell him, - warm, like cinnamon and apples, but still strong like steel. She bit the inside of her cheek habitually and laughed nervously.

"Th-that long, huh?" She joked, scolding herself almost immediately afterwards. She shouldn't joke about something he seemed so serious towards.

"Yeah," he breathed out, and she could feel it, warm and cozy like the summer breeze.

"Well…are you? I mean, I haven't been here in a long time, and there's no Ladybug…" she said tightly. At the mere mention of Ladybug, his whole body stiffened, like he'd been electrocuted.

"Right," his voice sounded gravelly and rough. "I'm _fine_."

There was something about the way he said _fine_ that made her wonder if what he really meant was _drop dead_.

She made an involuntary inhaling sound, like she was afraid of him yelling at her, and he immediately softened.

"Sorry," he apologized, "it's not your fault, I just…" he trailed off, clearly not in the mood to discuss.

Marinette felt dread, deep, cutthroat, and poisonous, settle in her stomach like acid. _Your fault, your fault, your fault-_

"I'm so sorry," she said, and even though he would hear it as Marinette apologizing – it was really Ladybug apologizing. How could she have been so selfish?

"Don't be," he looked her, dead in the eyes, and smiled softly. "You're one of the good ones, Marinette. I missed you."

Her heart thumped abnormally loud in her head, _one, two, three, one, two, three_ , the guilt flooding into her system like an _avalanche-_

"Welcome home," he said, before shooting off in the direction the man in the red hat disappeared to, off to save Paris like he had been for so long.

 _Welcome home, welcome home,_ his words resonated in her heart like the insistent echo of the sea in a conch shell – she would treasure those words for the rest of eternity, bottled up safe in her memory where no one could take it away.

"What have I done," she said aloud, voice so quiet it was like a rasp. "Tikki – oh _god,_ what have I _done-"_

Tikki said nothing, deciding it would be best to just let the girl fall to her knees and cry.

Sometimes regret was best expressed through the actions of another.

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After her second visit to the hospital, Marinette felt more emotionally and physically drained than ever.

"You look terrible," her father told her as she was beginning to leave. "Have you been crying that much, too?"

Marinette took one look into her father' red-rimmed eyes and nodded sadly. He reached his arms out and wrapped her into a bone-crushing hug – one that she had no idea she had been craving.

"We'll get through this," he told her, voice crackly and broken. "All of us. Together."

"Right," she spoke through watery tears. "Together."

He made it sound so easy.

Later, when she was out on a brief coffee run, she got a call from one of Miss Lenden's secretary, letting her know that she needed to make an important business transaction – it seemed Marina was putting her position in Paris to good use.

"We need to make our case about the brand new Lenden scarves line with the Agreste Fashion Industry – your job is on the line, Miss Cheng." The secretary informed her dully. She fought the urge to laugh. When _wasn't_ her job on the line?

Then – her face fell dramatically.

"A-Agreste?" She mumbled, pulling her phone closer to her face. "Did you say-"

"Yes, I did say that. I trust your skill of persuasion is more advanced than your skill of listening," the secretary groaned coolly. Marinette didn't feel like arguing, so she ignored the rude comment.

"Alright." She agreed. "I'll get right on that."

"You'd better," the secretary told her, "the deal needs to be completed in three day's time."

Marinette's eyes bulged. Three _days_? This deal was too big for _three days!_

"Th-that can't be right-"

"Good luck Miss Cheng," then the receiver beeped. She had just been hung up on.

Marinette let out a massive groan and rested her face in her hands to scream silently.

"We'd better get to work." Tikki told her nervously. "We can do this!"

"I can't do this," Marinette began to hyperventilate. "I can't do this I can't do this – I'll lose my job, I'll lose _everything –_ I can't lose this, this is all I _have_ I abandoned _everything_ here my job is _all I have-_ "

"Marinette, calm down!" Tikki yelled, attempting to prevent Marinette from succumbing to a panic attack.

"I know. I know, I know, I know. I just…alright. Let's go." Marinette breathed out, flattening her hands to her sides and surging forward, determined to get this deal done and secure her job simultaneously.

.

.

.

The mansion was just as intimidating as she remembered – from bits and pieces at least, fragmented parties, untimely nighttime visits – it still looked fit for a king.

"Ok, just, _relax_ , Marinette, it'll be fine." She told herself quietly before ringing the buzzer. A static, robotic voice soon answered.

"Agreste mansion – state your business."

Suddenly, Marinette felt her courage melt away like butter in the sun.

"U-um, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, representative for the Lenden Fashion Corporation? I'm here to negotiate with Mr. Agreste." She stammered, feeling like she was an awkward 15 year old once more.

There was a brief period of silence before the stiff woman spoke again.

"Come in, Mr. Agreste will see you shortly."

Exhaling as the gates opened to reveal the mansion to her, she moved forward with precise accuracy, knowing exactly what she wanted and when. She couldn't afford to be awkward and shy. Not now.

Of course, _life_ , or rather, _Paris_ , had _other_ plans for her.

The second she walked into the mansion, she was overwhelmed by the scent of vanilla and lemon – an interesting combo that reminded her of museums, like everything in the house was under a strict _do not touch_ policy.

She walked forward feeling the unfamiliar fluttering sensation in her stomach conflict with her hopeful bravery.

"Miss Cheng?" She recognized the slightly monotonous voice of the lady from the intercom, who she now recognized as Natalie, one of Mr. Agreste's assistants.

"Uh…yes. That's me." She confirmed.

"Right this way," she led Marinette through a ghostly hallway, filled with the occasional painting and vase filled with faded violet flowers. Marinette shivered – it was unusually cold in their home. In fact, it felt like less of a home and more of a dungeon.

"This is the room." Natalie informed her stiffly. "Please make your case succinct, Mr. Agreste has a very busy schedule."

"Of course." Marinette nodded and entered the room, immediately shocked by how _cold_ it was – this kind of temperature could only be appropriate for vampires.

"Good afternoon Miss Cheng." Gabriel Agreste's voice was low and smooth, like the rumbling of a train in the distance.

"Afternoon. I'm here to-"

"I know exactly why you're here." He interrupted her coldly. "Don't waste my time, Miss Cheng. It's more valuable than you could ever imagine."

"Of course." She answered, swallowing whatever pride she still had left. "I'd like to discuss the pros of our new scarf line and the production value, I don't suppose you'd mind if I jumped right into it."

Gabriel looked at her slowly, before shaking his head.

"I don't want to hear about the product." He told her.

Marinette blinked. "U-um…what?" She asked not-so-eloquently.

He scoffed. "You think I don't know the value of your product? _Please_ , I know all there is to it. And I'll tell you right now – by the end of this meeting, you will accomplish nothing. I refuse to work with that _wench_ Marina Lenden – and you can tell her that yourself."

Marinette flinched a tiny bit with every one of his words, each cut deeper like a shard of ice to the heart. How was it possible for someone as sweet and reserved as Adrien to come from a man as cruel and cold as this?

Regaining her courage, Marinette spoke once more. "With all due respect sir, I don't see why you accepted to meet with me if you weren't planning on accepting. You time is _more valuable than I could ever imagine,_ is it not?"

Immediately Marinette regretted her words. Gabriel's face morphed into one of a furious man – before changing back to cool indifference.

But Marinette could never forget that brief face of fury even if she wanted to – it was haunting, resounding, like a recurring nightmare from her childhood. How could Adrien have grown up with this man? Her heart surged for him – for shy, kind Adrien, who deserved _so much better_ -

"It was because of you, Miss Cheng." Gabriel said thinly. Marinette blinked in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Mr. Agreste spoke fluidly. "Someone as young as you should not be trusted with a job like that – even someone as air-headed as Miss Lenden should realize this. Why are you here?"

Marinette gritted her teeth before speaking again. "I'm back in town, apparently I'm the only one in the Lenden Corporation in Paris at the moment."

Gabriel made a few taunting steps towards her, sizing her up like a gazelle in the savannah. "It's more than that…"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said solidly, his presence making her extremely uncomfortable – almost itchy. Like she'd been in this situation before, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

"You used to live in Paris, did you not?" He asked her. Marinette did a double take and narrowed her eyes in the tiniest bit.

"I…did. Is there something I'm missing here-?"

"And yet, you moved to Italy…oh, I'd say…four years ago…?" He asked her leadingly. She felt like she was under cross examination – like he knew every answer to every question he would ask her. It was an unfair advantage that made her uneasy in every way imaginable.

"You could say that," she said quietly, like a child under scrutiny.

"Answer yes or no to my questions, please." He said, voice and words as venomous as the bite of a viper.

"Yes." She rephrased, fists balling up next to her jacket.

"Hmm…a lot has happened in four years…" he trailed off, looking towards the towering bookshelf in the corner of the room, just where a pocket of light reached from the window to create a luminous ray of sun in an otherwise dark room.

He sighed. "Tell Miss Lenden I agree to her deal. The Agreste Fashion Industry will endorse and support her project."

Marinette almost toppled over, face-first.

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me, Miss Cheng. Do not make me repeat myself. Although…" he stopped abruptly, turning away from him so she could only see the harsh black of his suit and his folded hands behind his back. "Do not make yourself scarce. Inform Miss Lenden that all negotiations will be made through _you_ – do you understand me?"

Marinette's mouth went completely dry. He wanted _her_ to work negotiations? But…he _hated_ her…

"I…I…"

"You have three seconds to give me your answer."

"I…of course. I understand sir. Thank you for your cooperation." She bowed her head a bit and turned to get the _hell_ out of there as fast as she could.

"Marinette."

She stopped in her tracks – her own name rendering her frozen, blood coiled and cold. She hated the way he said her name.

"I look forward to further talks with you." Gabriel said, like a playful taunt.

Marinette almost screamed.

He knew it. He _knew –_ he knew that she was afraid of him, the way he left her paralyzed – and he _enjoyed_ it.

How sick could someone be?

She was out of that room in a second flat, gasping for air once the door was shut. It felt like drowning in there, the air and aura of Mr. Agreste surrounding and choking the air out of her lungs.

She must've looked like a bowless goldfish in that hallway, gasping for breath desperately. She'd be ok. She'd be ok. Everything was going to be _fine_ -

"Marinette we have to go!" Tikki insisted from within her purse – she had almost forgotten about her poor kwami.

"Right. Right. Right. Let's go." She nodded quickly and recovered herself, dusting imaginary dirt off of her skirt ad turning to find the exit.

"Dammit. Which way is out again?" She asked herself, nervously fisting at the sides of her jacket.

"Umm…try that way." Tikki pointed left and Marinette shrugged and took her advice.

Marinette wondered if Adrien still lived in Paris. He was probably married by now – someone as handsome and rich as him probably had no trouble finding and making connections.

She couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy to the woman who got to have him – he was a keeper alright, she had spent years shyly pursuing him with nothing to show for it.

Oh well. Nothing could be done about it.

She turned an unexpected corner rather quickly, eyes trained on an enormous painting of a gorgeous woman by the banister, when she felt her face smash into something warm and large, and it smelt distinguishingly familiar – something she couldn't quite place her finger on.

"Whoa – sorry there, you…" Whoever she had run into apologized before awkwardly stopping.

"No, I'm sorry, I-" she looked up and felt her heart drop twelve stories.

"Marinette." Adrien said, olive green eyes as memorable as she recalled. "You're back."

Before her heart could do a little dance at the fact that he actually _recognized_ her and was _happy_ to see her – all the color drained out of her face.

There, right below Adrien's curved, smiling lips – was a small, sharp scar, curving up just to meet the very bottom of his lip.

\- and it looked _very, very_ familiar.

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 **i know, im lame for ending there but im tired n.n**

 **happy christmas everyone, and thank you all SO MUCH for your support! i love every review and follow/fave you offer!**


	3. like you're running out of time

**welcome back to hell ^-^**

 **.**

The first thing Marinette did – _deny._

It's was a ridiculous notion – Adrien? And Chat Noir? Two _completely_ different people – different personalities, different _auras_.

She'd be lying if she never noticed the physical similarities, but of course, there were _millions and millions_ of people in Paris – at least some of them were bound to share those same physical traits that Adrien and Chat Noir pertained.

Of course…that scar looked _so familiar_ …

Marinette subsided her thoughts of doubt to examine Adrien once more. He was certainly taller, succeeding in making her feel small, but not too small. His hair was a bit longer, a bit more spread out, too, but just as well taken care of as it had been before she left. It always looked soft. His eyes were a medium green, not too dark and not too light, friendly, but deep, containing millions of emotions brewed together into a fanciful emerald cocktail. He blinked, snapping her back into reality and back into the present.

"Adrien. Hi. Hi." She rushed to think of something halfway intelligent to say. "Yes. I am back. How are you?" _…close enough._

He smiled, and suddenly, Marinette remembered. She remembered loving this boy (well, man now) for _years_ , and literally falling at his feet at the given opportunity. She remembered days and days spent over him, hurting and aching and _wishing_ she could work up the courage to just say _something_ to him.

She had yearned to know him more intimately than anyone else – and yet, she'd never even managed to scratch the surface of Adrien Agreste.

"I'm…pretty good, yeah." He answered. She blinked, forgetting she had even asked a question. He had that sort of effect on her that made her forget everything she had said and done in the last five minutes.

"That's…that's great!" She awkwardly announced. She mentally grimaced, here she was, right back in her shoes four years ago, making an absolute fool of herself.

"So…what are you doing here?" He asked her, not disrespectfully, but in the sense of 'why are you even in my house' tone.

"Um…business! The company I work for wanted your company to…um…help out…" She made a few awkward hand gestures and shrugged.

"You're going to be doing business with us, then?" He concluded. Of course. It made sense that Adrien would stay in Paris and assist the family business. Maybe he was still modeling, after all these years, he still had every ounce (if not more) of his renowned radiant beauty.

Marinette mentally kicked herself. Way to put all those years of maturity behind her.

"Yes. I work for the Lenden Fashion Corporation now." She informed him, keeping her voice as steady as possible. It was just a boy. Just Adrien. No need to freak out. So what if her world revolved around him for a good portion of her youth? That was…completely…irrelevant…

"All the way in Italy? So you weren't kidding then, I was sad to see you go that day. You really left in a hurry, it seemed." He pointed out. Marinette went rigid at the memory of leaving Paris. Such a fuzzy memory. But it made her stomach tickle at the thought of him _noticing_ her as she left.

"I guess so," she mumbled, twirling a lock of hair absently, searching for an interesting source of small-talk. "You…you got taller!"

"Did I?" He asked, looking down at the floor to measure whether or not it had gotten farther away. "Maybe. You stayed the exact same height."

Marinette blinked. Was he…teasing her?

With a newfound smitten demeanor, she grinned. "Do you have a _problem_ with my height, Adrien?"

His eyebrows lightly played to his expression, a curious experimental smile stretching across his lips. "No, I happen to like the fact that you're just…pocket-sized."

She tried not to laugh. "Pocket-sized?"

"Yup." He patted his pocket, as if he were half expecting her to hop into it.

She covered her mouth to keep from giggling like a stupid teenager. She was twenty-two years old, she should have the restraint to not fall head-over-ass for some attractive man who happened to be quite funny and sweet too.

"Maybe you'll just have to teach me to be tall, then." She smarted, avoiding her old advice of not falling for Adrien and instead doing the _very_ wrong thing and flirting right back with him.

"It would take a lot of time and effort, from a shorty like you." He made a leveling gesture with his hand to symbolize her lack of height.

"I'll be learning from the best," she mused, as if actually considering taking a lesson from Adrien for the vertically challenged.

Adrien looked like he was about to elaborate further on the fictitious class, but was interrupted by a voice she hoped she wouldn't have to hear again.

"Adrien," Gabriel Agreste's voice echoed from down the vacant hallway. "I'd appreciate if you could keep your head out of the clouds and focus on your job."

Adrien's face got dark so fast Marinette could've sworn a shadow had passed overhead.

"Yes _father_ ," Adrien said through gritted teeth. He said the word _father_ as if it were equivalent to a weapon of mass destruction. There was clearly tension between them, as Marinette assumed there would be, after all, Gabriel Agreste was perhaps the most intimidating, steel-tongued bitter man she'd ever met.

"And don't distract our _guest_ ," Marinette shivered at the way the elder Agreste referred to her as a _guest –_ more like _prisoner_. "She is here for strictly business purposes only."

Right. _Business_.

Marinette turned back to Adrien, feeling a bit guilty for getting him in trouble. He was still as stone-faced as he had been when his father first made his appearance.

Before she could say anything else, that stupid scar jumped out at her once more, like a neon sign that simply read _don't forget the evidence_.

Don't forget the evidence. Of course. She couldn't let herself, not now.

As much as every fiber, every cell of her being begged to disagree, she couldn't allow herself to sweep the fact under the rug. She would have to keep in mind that there was a possibility – however slim or wide – that Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

"I should…probably go…" She spoke quietly. Adrien's face regained its emotions and he blinked a few times before responding.

"Ah…I'm sorry, Marinette, really. Don't pay too much attention to him, alright?" He advised her carefully.

"Right." She faked a smile. Easier said than done.

"I hope I'll get to see you more often, then." He smiled, and if Marinette had even a lick of sense left in her empty brain, she'd have noted that he was most definitely smirking.

"It's a possibility," she murmured anxiously. She was beginning to feel her face turn red and was eager to escape his searching emerald gaze, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a blush.

"Until then," he gave her a tiny bow, before exiting as dramatically as he had arrived. Marinette reserved the right to laugh hysterically inside her head. He was so damned cute. _Bowing_? He was so _extra_ it was ridiculous.

Head bubbling with memories of past encounters, she allowed herself to indulge in the thought that maybe this time, she'd get past the surface of Adrien. Maybe this time, she'd actually get to know him as she so desired.

She smiled. He had actually managed to brighten up a day that had seemed as dark as a closed closet, thanks to his own father.

Right. It was going to be an interesting few months here in Paris. That was for sure.

.

.

.

"Mom," Marinette greeted softly, lightly leaning over and resting her hand on her mother's forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

Her mother smiled and clasped her hand, like she was grateful for the simplicity of human contact. "Just fine…just fine…"

Marinette retracted her hand and forced a small smile. "That's good. Has dad been here yet?"

Her mother nodded slowly. "Yes, yes. A few times."

Marinette took her mother's hand and squeezed it lightly. "Do you want me to get any medicine or food for you? Do you need any-"

"No…no." she mumbled, blinking her tired eyes. "I just want to look at my daughter's face…so lovely…"

Marinette flushed and smiled sheepishly. " _Mom…_ "

"Be quiet, now, you've matured so much…such beautiful hair, lovely features…why, you'll be married in no time." her mother paused to cough a few times, stirring tears behind Marinette's eyes. It wasn't…it wasn't _fair_ …

"Why did it…" she gasped, taken aback by the sound of her own strained voice. "Why did it have to be you, mom? Why not someone…someone else…"

"Ahh, my dear, sometimes, these things happen…" her mother told her, voice hoarse from the coughing.

"I know…I know…" Marinette soothed herself with her own words. It'd be fine. Her mother was strong, she could recover.

Sensing the discomfort in the topic of conversation, Marinette's mother moved on.

"How has your work been?"

Marinette blinked.

"Ah…good, good. I get to work with the Agreste Industry…" She added guiltily.

Marinette's mother weakly raised an eyebrow. "Agreste? Isn't that the name of the boy you used to-"

"HAHAHAHA. No, you must be mistaken…" Marinette defended, a bit too quickly. Marinette's mother looked appropriately skeptical.

"Whatever you say…" she spoke slowly.

Marinette smiled, enjoying her mother's company much more than she had imagined. She a had missed her for all those years in Italy, unfortunately she hadn't been able to call as frequently as she should've. She had been so invested on getting her dream job, she practically shut out everything else important and sold her soul for something as trivial as occupation.

It seemed that now was when the world was deciding to make her pay the price for her selfishness.

"Mom…can I ask you something…off-topic?" She asked kindly, on the mental topic of her betrayal.

"Of course, my dear. Anything."

Marinette breathed in, keeping her blood pressure low and calm.

"While…while I was gone…can you tell me about Paris? Specifically…the super-heroes, I mean. How have they been?" Marinette cringed at her own phrasing. Surely her mother would be suspicious as to why she wanted to know about something as odd as that. But how else was she going to get proper information about Chat Noir? The internet was insufficient. In all honesty, she had turned to Alya's Ladyblog, but was disappointed to see that it had been taken down sometime before. She was completely blind, and now she just needed her mother to be her eyes.

"Ah…yes. The young boy. I figured you would ask about him…"

Marinette's eyes widened. "Wha…why is tha-"

Marinette's other smiled and rested her head back. "Marinette, a daughter can only hide so much from her own mother."

A few seconds of stark silence passed.

"…M…Mom? What are you say-"

"I'm proud of you, Marinette. I couldn't have asked for a more brave and selfless daughter." Her mother said softly.

Marinette bit back tears. _Selfless._ The word mocked her now.

"And yet…" her mother continued, silent judgment fleeting across her eyes. "You left the young boy alone to fight for Paris. I always…I always wondered…"

Now Marinette allowed her tears to cascade down like thick, salty waterfalls. Why did she have to leave? How could she have _done_ this?

Sabine Cheng pursed her lips. "If you want the truth…it always finds you, Marinette. The boy has had many troubles without your help, that's true. But I believe that if you return to him, forgiveness is still possible."

Marinette shook her head. "Oh…mom I _can't_ , I hurt him, I can't be Ladybug again…I just…I _can't_ …"

"You _can_ ," her mother told her. "You can't hide forever. You've run before, and now it's time for you to let yourself go…"

"I don't…" Marinette sniffed and rubbed the half-dried tears away from her cheeks. "I don't think I'm strong enough, I was so selfish, I don't even remember _why_ I left, I'm awful, and I _hurt so many people,_ I'm selfish and naïve and _stupid_ -"

"All these emotions," Sabine's eyes shimmered with sadness. "So much despair. If you are able to show him the regret you feel, forgiveness is _always_ possible. And…let me tell you…if you do not seek out this forgiveness…you will regret it…for the rest of your life…" her sentences began shortening from exhaustion, and Marinette quickly silenced her with a few soft shushes.

"I know, I know…I know, Mama." She sobbed.

"Marinette," her mother began, voice strained like a tightrope. "You always moved so fast, running after your dreams as quickly as you could. You need to know…you need to learn…to slow _down_. The world will wait for you – you have… _all the time in the world_."

Her final sentence was so bitterly ironic, Marinette almost laughed. All the time in the world, just as her mother's time was close to running out.

"Slow down, my daughter." She advised, kissing her daughter's hand slowly.

"I will, mom." She said tearfully. "I will."

.

.

.

"Well, that's three down, seven to go…" Tikki commented aimlessly. Marinette dropped her camera onto her stomach, bouncing a few times while swinging back and forth on the strap that was tight around her neck.

"Seven more. Right. Now we just have to find seven more people that actually have a sense of style." She said monotonously. Seemed like it would be easy in a place as populous as Paris, but everyone was always moving all the time, it was hard enough to get a photo of one person at a time without it being blurry or obscured. And if there was one thing Marina Lenden hated, it was anything less than total and absolute perfection.

"What about that guy? He has a...hat…" Tikki pointed out. Marinette shrugged, red baseball caps didn't elicit any sense of fashion superiority. At least, not for her.

"Keep an eye out for people wearing scarves, that should get me on Miss Lenden's good side." Marinette grumbled. Before Tikki could speak a response, a gathering of people next to a corporate building and the sound of some uproar interrupted them.

"I wonder what's going on over there," Tikki spoke aloud. Marinette was already moving there quickly, a sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

She pushed a few people to the side, ignoring their protests as she saw what had begun unfolding on the street. An all-out brawl between two oversized men and – of _course_ – Chat Noir, happening in between flying cars and smashed windows. How had she managed to miss all of this happening?

"Tikki, there's _two_ of them," Marinette whispered. _Two_ akumatized people, and Chat Noir had to fight them both by himself.

She wondered if this had happened before. If he'd ever had to fight many enemies without her.

She wondered how many close calls he'd had, and she wondered how many she could've prevented if it hadn't been for her self-centered-ness.

She watched Chat Noir, breathless, as he avoided confrontation with both men and strategically waited for the right moments to land his hits. He was stronger, faster, and smarter. But…he couldn't do it on his own. He shouldn't _have_ to do it on his own.

Marinette, blank-minded and granite-faced, turned around and began walking. Just walking, aimlessly, with no clear direction. She just needed to get as far away from the fight as possible, as _far away_ from Chat Noir.

 _Slow down Marinette, you have all the time in the world._

Slow down. Slow down.

She looked down at Tikki, they were alone behind a school building just down the street from the fight. Her face read an endless amount of emotions, but none more prominent than guilt.

"Marinette…what are you going to do?" Tikki asked her slowly. This was a trial – it would test her character and moral, and could determine the rest of her stay at Paris, and whether or not she'd harbor regret for what she did four years ago.

"Tikki," Marinette said, voice low and steely. "…Spots on."

.

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 **before you ask...yes i do hate being cliffhanger trash**

 **thank you ALL for this amazing support! there are so many of you and im so excited that youre all so nice to me, especially with my limited ladybug knowledge, so please bear with me while i struggle with updates and such~~ thank you all so much for your reviews as well! feel free to pm me bc im really nice and i love to talk!**


	4. never be satisfied

**:,)**

 **.**

She wasn't sure what compelled her to make the sudden decision – after years of quiet solitude – to disrupt said quietness with the summoning of her alter ego.

Tikki's eyes widened.

"Marinette…are you sure…? It's been so lon-"

"I'm sure," she interrupted shrilly, not wanting to wait a moment longer in fear she might lose her courage.

"…Alright." Tikki responded.

She felt the magic course through her body, it was cool, like lightning, and she watches the familiar striking red suit stretch across her matured body.

Her breathing hitched when the transformation stopped. She felt stronger, lighter. It had been so _long…_

Her hands reached for her yo-yo and she grasped it tightly. She had to help Chat Noir. That was her one and only goal. Fight now. Talk later.

Her hand stiffened at the memory of him on that night at the mere mention of Ladybug he had stopped short. There was no way he'd be happy to see her again. He _shouldn't_ be happy. He should be angry with her, furious, bitter, and unforgiving.

That was the price she was willing to pay.

She flung her yo-yo out and yanked herself on top of the nearest building so she could get a better look at the building where Chat Noir had managed to lure the two akumatized men, strategically drawing them away from any innocent bystanders. They were nearly two stories above ground, all positioned in a three person triangle. Chat Noir was expertly dodging almost all of their attacks and landing a few of his own as well, but Marinette knew that she could help him if she tried. If she was able to hook her yo-yo around the left guy's foot, the one with the wacky brown hair, she'd be able to hang him by his foot off of the flagpole and then be able to get his akuma. With any luck, Chat Noir would be able to take care of the other guy.

Marinette grimaced. She had forgotten to factor something else in. The fact that no one had seen Ladybug for four years would raise some eyebrows, and probably distract Chat, especially seeing how bitter he was towards her (and rightfully so).

Oh well. She'd just have to wing it.

Calculating the precise angle, she wound her arm backwards and flung her yo-yo at the villain she was aiming for. She almost cringed, her arm strength had gotten significantly dented in the years she spent in Italy. She was lucky enough to make it all the way, and the yo-yo zipped around the criminal's ankle and she pulled back with all of her strength.

The apprehended man made a grunt of surprise, even standing as far away as she was from a different building she could hear it. As soon as she had him hooked for sure and pulled him towards her she swung the yo-yo and the man (who was a lot heavier than she had anticipated) into the nearest hanging flag attached to the building she was currently standing on, tying him to the pole with a single flick of her wrist. She swallowed her proud smile, it had been a while since she'd done anything like that, and it felt kind of good to be back in the game.

That is, it felt good until she saw Chat's face.

He stood on the building across from hers, and slightly lower, so he had to crane his neck to see her clearly. His face was completely iced over, like someone had just told him his entire family had died. Green met blue and she froze just as he had when their eyes locked for a good few seconds, staring comprehensibly, he was just begging for an answer.

She couldn't give one to him at that time, they both knew it. Marinette tore herself away from him, praying that he'd tend to the situation at hand before asking questions. She tightened the yo-yo and walked over to the flagpole to investigate where his akuma was. He hissed and swiped at her with his free hand, but she dodged it with ease. This should be easy enough, he was all tied up and Chat appeared to be doing a good job of subduing the man he was fighting.

Ladybug glanced up and down at the still struggling man, strapped to the French flag helplessly. He had no obvious akuma markings, she'd just have to get it through him manually.

"Alright…bud. Where's your akuma…" Marinette mused, nudging his shoulder with her foot testily.

"Get me down!" He snarled, flailing his arms around haphazardly.

"Sorry, no can-do, I have to make you un-evil…kind of my job…" Ladybug said after sucking in a breath.

The man looked at her quizzically. "Aren't you…Ladybug? I was pretty sure you died." He mentioned, lip thinning into a tight line.

"That's me. Not dead." She said sarcastically. Maybe Chat Noir was faring better with the other guy.

She looked to the other building, to make sure he didn't need her help, and was astonished to see that the only thing there was a man, presumably the one who had been akumatized, laying on the roof, defeated. He had finished him that fast? And how had he managed to find the akuma? And how had he purified it?

Curious, Ladybug turned back to her captured villain and almost screamed when she saw that he was gone. She had only turned away for a few seconds, and he had already escaped?

She heard a grunting sound behind her and whirled around, ready fro an attack from behind, only to see a sight she never could have imagined.

Chat Noir was holding the man up by the collar of his shirt, effortlessly, displaying the years of hard-toned muscles in his arms. The man kicked his legs fruitlessly, trying to lay purchase with no success. Chat tightened his grip and the man made a choking sound.

Marinette's blood ran cold. She'd never seen him so… _angry_ …before. Like his years of solitude had built up until he took it out on the enemy.

Chat reached out wish his other arm and ripped the scarf off of the man, and then laid half of it on the ground so he could step on it and rip it in half. An akuma, deep violet and small, fluttered out of the discarded object. Marinette tilted her head, curious to see how Chat Noir purified akuma's. She never knew he had the ability, but she'd assumed that without her, he would be forced to learn how to.

Right. She softly bowed her head in shame. She left him alone to take care of it all by himself…

Her eyes refocused on him as he reached out and grabbed the akuma in his hand, the other one still grasping the de-evilized man by the collar.

And, to Marinette's stunned, silent horror, he crushed the akuma in his hand, black dust falling out of his enclosed fist like sand in an hour glass.

There was something unsettling about it, for years Marinette had freed the akumas with her powers, releasing them from evil to be the butterflies that they were meant to be. And the fact that Chat had crushed it with such ease, like it was just a pointless slip of paper, made her sick to her stomach.

Chat dropped the normal man to the ground with a _thump_. He made a moaning sound, but Chat ignored him, turning towards her instead.

This was it – the confrontation. Marinette could already feel tears welling up behind her eyes, she felt helpless. She deserved all of his anger, but a part of her wished that he would show her mercy.

" _You,_ " he began, pointing at her shakily. "What are you _doing_?"

"I'm…" she got off to a bad start. "I wanted to…to help you…"

"To help _me_?" He pointed to his chest and laughed coldly. "That's rich. It only took you…what, four years?"

"I…I'm-"

"No," he cut her off, indicating that it was his time to talk. She stayed silent. She deserved this, she _deserved_ everything he said to her.

"All my life, I was subordinate to you. You were the strong one, the _leader_. It was Ladybug and Chat Noir, not the other way around. And I was ok with that, because I-" he swallowed his words and glared at her venomously. She could tell that this speech had been rehearsed, probably over and over again in his head, she could only _imagine_ how much he must _hate_ her.

"You were _everything_ to me." He whispered accusingly. "And you left me here – did you even care?"

She gasped a little bit. "Of course, I-"

"No, listen to me." He demanded roughly, and at this point Marinette realized that the two previously akumatized men had been knocked out cold by Chat, keeping their one-sided argument from prying ears. "You…you can't just come and go as you please, I can't…I can't take it…"

At the end of his sentence, Marinette realized how weak she had made him feel. She had completely isolated him, left him to clean up the pieces of her disastrous life.

Regret had been a common emotion for her lately – but she didn't think any regret could come close to the emotion she felt now.

"Chat…I'm _so_ sorry," she whispered, voice like the scratch of a guitar, barely audible.

"You don't get to be sorry." He told her, backing away slowly. "I…I hope I never see you again."

And then, he was gone, like the last beat of a heart before death.

Marinette knew that she'd cried enough since her return to Paris. Her tears meant nothing now. All she could do to console herself was slowly sink to her knees, and let the wash over her like the tide.

She didn't deserve forgiveness – all she deserved was the hatred of the entire world, resting on her shoulders like Atlas.

.

.

.

It was 3 am when she woke up again. Sleep had been fleeting ever since her meeting with Chat Noir. It was choppy like sea water, only a few hours at a time, and when she did get a few hours, she'd wake up in a cold sweat, wishing for comfort and for all of her shame to just _go away_.

And she hated that a tiny part of her, in the back of her mind, wanted to run away again. Leave Paris, return to Italy, just go _somewhere_ where she could forget all the destruction she'd caused in France.

Running away was no longer an option – this wasn't about bravery, or honor, this was about duty. She had caused all of this, so she deserved to take it.

She blinked tiredly, eyes heavy and fuzzy. She absently reached for her phone to make sure she hadn't missed any calls, with her boss being in a slightly different timezone sometimes stuff like that happened, and she didn't want a repeat of what happened _last_ time she missed a call. Marina Lenden had an interesting way of taking out her anger, that's for sure.

Her phone had a notification popped up on the screen. Marinette's eyes widened painfully and she sat up, rubbing the areas around her face that ached from sleepless nights. The notification was a block-text, too long to be contained on just the home screen of her phone. She entered the password lethargically to read the message in its fullness.

She almost cringed when she saw who the sender was. Just what she needed.

 _Miss Cheng_

 _You are expected at a negotiations meeting Monday the tenth, at 6:00 A.M._ _sharp. Your presence is absolutely imperative if you wish the transactions to go through. Do not fail me, this partnership is of the utmost importance. Your job is on the line._

Miss Lenden may as well have signed Marinette a death note, because she'd rather be six feet under than forced into an impromptu, early meeting with Gabriel Agreste, the reincarnation of the greed and wrath.

Marinette glanced at the clock on her phone, eyes surely bloodshot from the sudden bout of light. 3:04 A.M.

She had a meeting in less than three hours.

Shutting her eyes tight, she sucked in a long breath of air, half-hoping that with the rest of her vision, the world would disappear as well. No more problems, no more ladybug, no more _meetings_ , no more hurt.

When she opened them again it was 3:05.

Oh well. Sleep wasn't all that important, she had a few spare euros in her purse, it should be enough for an espresso shot in the morning.

Her face drowned in the crackly softness of her pillow (it was only a bit crackly and stiff from dried tears – other than that, it was fully functional) and she allowed herself another hour of rest. Just one more hour. That's _all_ she asked.

.

.

.

That hour turned into two and a half – and somehow, she managed to pull herself onto her feet and get ready for a meeting with twenty minutes to arrive on time.

She walked in three minutes early, pencil skirt crinkled and violet shirt falling all over the place like a discolored ocean.

Her hair was hardly brushed, so she had to sweep it into a low, lingering ponytail. Since she got up so late she had no time to straighten it and it hug back in dark waves, the style of which had been inherited from her father, who apparently had quite the curly head of hair back in high school.

No matter, she still looked a mess by the time she urgently entered the Agreste mansion. Her makeup was withered and simple, not nearly generous enough to hide the haunting bags under her eyes that nightmares and sleepless nights had purchased. Surely that would raise a few eyebrows, especially since she had her double shot espresso in tow.

Marinette, thankful that she had chosen to wear flats instead of heels, felt a wave of dizziness pass over her and she cling to one of the pale walls for support. The lack of sleep wasn't doing her any favors, or going easy on her. This was going to be a rough meeting.

Just as she began to realign herself with the proper balance, the _last_ person she wanted to see her in this state happened across her.

"Marinette," Adrien began, looking her up and down. He looked gorgeous, as per usual. Not a hair out of place and his casual business attire made her want to drown in a puddle of her own happiness. "You look – wow, I mean, you look really…"

"It's ok, you don't have to lie." She deadpanned, holding her coffee out to let him fully examine her disheveled appearance. "I look exhausted. Spoiler alert – it's because I _am_."

He blinked slowly and took a few easy steps forward. She gasped a little bit when his hand reached over without hesitation to fix a piece of twisted black hair that had fallen over her eyes.

"There." He said with satisfaction. "And…maybe you should fix your whole…shirt…let me hold your coffee for you." He took the coffee without bothering for her consent, and she flashed him a look of gratitude.

"Thank you," she breathed, eagerly pecking at the trim of her shirt and tucking it in at all the right places. She took a few extra seconds to smooth her skirt out before looking back up to get her coffee from Adrien.

"Rough night?" He asked her, after handing her the coffee gingerly, as if her appearance had something to do with her ability to hold a simple cup of coffee.

"Uh…you could say that," she gestured to herself and shrugged. She was almost too tired to worry about looking nice and sounding smart in front of Adrien. It wasn't like she actually had a romantic chance with him anyway, any chances of that had ended years ago.

"I don't suppose you're at all nervous?" he asked her, suddenly turning expectantly, like he wanted her to follow him. She numbly nodded. Was Adrien going to be present at the meeting as well? That would be…quite the distraction.

Speaking of distractions…Marinette _really_ happened to enjoy the way Adrien's pants made his…no, _bad_ Marinette! She chided herself to pay attention to the road ahead of her.

"Um…sort of. I'm not usually in charge of negotiations, so this is a little new for me…" she summed up quickly. He nodded.

"Don't worry, I'll keep him off your back. Just relax and everything will go over smoothly. You can trust me." He told her, and with his final word he turned around in front of a massive door and offered her his hand, like he wanted to escort her into the meeting room.

Well, it would be rude to refuse, right?

She carefully let his hand slide over hers before he opened the door. Marinette wished she could say she was surprised by the overwhelming lack of natural light in the room, but there was something about Gabriel Agreste that made him seem like the one-window-per-room kind of guy.

Adrien pulled her to the stark white table in the middle of the room, large enough for a small army. Gabriel and his assistant, Natalie, were both sitting at the table, talking in hushed tones.

"Father." Adrien greeted stiffly. He hadn't released her hand yet.

"Adrien. I see you brought Miss Cheng with you…have a seat." Mr. Agreste offered coolly, motioning towards the two empty chairs on opposite sides of the table.

The first thing Marinette noticed, save the lack of actual light in the room, was the lack of others. Including herself, there were only four people present. Perhaps the Agreste's were more a fan of family business. And from the looks of it, only Gabriel and Adrien remained.

Marinette had always wondered what happened to Adrien's mother. Her absence had always been puzzling, but of course, she and Adrien had never been close enough for her to ask him. She glanced up at him from across the table, he sat closer to Gabriel, but still a good enough distance to mutter under his breath, Marinette was sure. He seemed to be miles away, the table was so huge, and Gabriel had gestured for her to sit at the complete opposite end.

"Now, Miss Cheng, We'd like to ask you a few things about your product, and what it entails." Natalie began, to Marinette's surprised. She had assumed Gabriel would take charge of the meeting. Instead, he sat with his hands folded, staring down at her, a judgmental look on his rigid features.

"…Of course." She started, folding her hands as well, but in a much more peaceful manner. Before she could begun her business spiel, she caught two subtle thumbs up from Adrien all the way across the table. She spared him a grateful smile before beginning. It was going to be a very long meeting.

.

.

.

It was 9 A.M. when the meeting _officially_ ended. Marinette felt like her throat was going to close up it was so dry. Spending that much time with a berating Gabriel and slightly more optimistic Adrien was exhausting.

Overall, Gabriel had seemed not at all interested in the product, but instead, in Marinette's relationship with Marina and how and when she got her job. Confused as to how and what her merits had to do with the business deal, Adrien was quick to jump to her defense whenever these questions arose. He seemed interested in the deal and the partnership, like the meeting was supposed to go.

There had been obvious tension between the two Agrestes throughout the whole meeting – Marinette didn't have to be keen to sense it. They would constantly contradict and silently glare at each other from their respective chairs, half the time Marinette wondered why they didn't just hop on the table and duel it out. Adrien was rumored to still be a prodigy in fencing, he could surely beat out his sneering father.

And no, 'rumor' didn't mean that she stalked his facebook page. That would be ridiculous….

Of course, the highlights of the meeting would have to consist of every little expression she shared with Adrien while Natalie or Gabriel would be talking – they were secretive enough to remain unnoticed, but occasionally they'd share a smile or ridiculous eye roll. It was a little bit…endearing, to see a side of Adrien she wasn't all that familiar with. Playfulness seemed like it was his well-kept secret, and the fact that he had openly shared it with her was somewhat touching.

When she was able to slip out of the meeting room, Marinette almost collapsed against the floor from exhaustion. Not only had her espresso worn off, but her lack of sleep from the nights previous had kicked in like a surprise visit from satan himself.

She pulled herself around the corner so she could maintain at least a little bit of dignity for herself, she had at least seen Gabriel exit in the other direction, so she'd be safe from the intimidating man's cold stares for at least another day.

She leaned her head against the searing cold wall, breathing in and out shallowly. Maybe if she could call a cab from here, she would be able to avoid passing out in the middle of the Agreste estate. That would certainly be an experience.

She blinked rigorously and reached for her phone, unfortunately her grip was slick from a thin layer of sweat that had developed when Gabriel had gotten particularly intense with his questioning during the meeting. The phone slipped out of her hand and she made a squeaking sound of surprise when she realized that her phone was definitely not making out of it unscathed.

But of course, in the spirit of being rescued many times in that meeting by him, Adrien Agreste slipped down like a ninja and saved her phone from imminent disaster.

"Thank…" she trailed off, partially forgetting how the rest of that sentence usually went.

"Wow, You look… _very_ tired. Do you need a ride home?" He asked her, genuinely concerned that she was going to faint into a puddle on his hallway.

"Um…no, I'm fine! Just…you wouldn't happen to have any caffeine, would you?"

He cracked a smile. "Alright…will you at least let me call you a cab?"

"That would be fantastic. She wheezed unattractively. "I don't suppose this floor is acceptable for a quick 5-minute nap?"

He shook his head at her. "Alrighty, let's get you up," he prompted her, gently leaning down and offering her his hand. Her mind flashed back to when he had taken her hand before the meeting. She never remembered Adrien being this handsy at all (she mentally cringed at the unintentional pun), perhaps he really had changed in the last few years.

She took his hand, and he quickly looped the arm that was clasping her hand around her waist so he could effectively hoist her up. She almost gasped when her feet fully left the ground for a second. Adrien was extremely strong, evidently. Even the thickness and feel of his arms was different than she'd expected, she never really pictured him as the type of guy who went to the gym every day. But then again, there was still the possibility of him holding his fencing hobby…

"All good?" he asked her, confirming her comfort. She nodded, almost swooning like the fourteen year old girl she turned into whenever he was around.

"You know," he mused as he led her (well…it was a bit more like _dragged_ ) down the hall, presumably to the front of the mansion so he could call a cab. "I never asked you why, I mean, why you left Paris in the first place. I mean, I'm sure it's none of my business, but…"

Marinette grimaced. The reasons seemed scrambled to her, even now. But there was one defining factor that stood out clearly to her.

Adrien himself.

She remembered sitting, watching, _waiting_ , and hating herself for not making a move when she had the chance. Every passing second was like torture for her.

Her cowardice had driven her to the utmost limit. She remembered clearly on the day of graduation, watching everyone smile proudly at their children, her own parents nearly smothering her to death. She had promised herself – _sworn_ that on that day, she would confess to him. She had to, it was her _last chance._

Instead, she watched him walk around and socialize with all his friends, Nino, Alix, Max…even Chloé, who Marinette had always assumed he disliked. It was then when she realized she could never be his, and he would never be hers. She could never compare.

Adrien deserved someone beautiful like Chloé, someone smart like Max, someone strong like Alix, and someone as funny as Nino.

There was something about realizing that she would never be good enough that triggered that _fight or flight_ instinct, a primal urge in the back of her mind that sent her flying, _literally,_ all the way to Italy.

"Well…" She began, slowly and seriously. "I got my heart broken." Her simple answer seemed to strike a chord in him, he came to a full stop and gave her a look of extreme sympathy.

"I get it," he told her lowly, like he was about to tell her a secret. "Sometimes…heartbreak can make sane people do strange things."

She exhaled. "You…sound like you know from experience."

She wondered who'd managed to capture Adrien's heart – and who could've been selfish enough to break it.

If it were her, she'd treasure him like no other. That was for sure.

He looked at her with grave sincerity. The look was enough to convey his emotions to the full extent.

Maybe she and Adrien were a lot more similar than she ever would've thought.

He sat her down on a chair in a place she recognized to be the main foyer – near a large, elegant staircase and an enormous door. He spared no time picking up his own phone (a sleek and sophisticated new smartphone – one she was fairly sure hadn't been formally released quite yet) and dialing the number for a taxi service. Suddenly paling, Marinette reached into her purse to hopefully grab some money. Adrien grabbed her hand, the other still holding the phone up in mid-call.

"Don't worry about money, I'll get it," he told her quickly before asking for the cab to come to his home.

After he had hung up, he sat down next to her with a soft, consoling smile.

"Sorry about the mess, I would have our driver take you home, but he's pretty sick as of now…"

"Adrien, it's fine. I mean, thank you for all of this. You're really too kind." She gushed, thanking him didn't seem like it could nearly be enough.

He half-smiled. "It's no problem, really I wish I could do more-"

"Nonsense," she slurred, a bit tiredly, considering she was having a fair amount of trouble keeping her eyes open. "I don't even know how I'll be able to repay you for this."

She half-expected him to politely insist that she had no need to repay him, but instead, a slow, almost catlike grin spread across his lips.

"You could let me take you out to lunch tomorrow."

He said it so simply, she was positive he was joking.

"Ehewhaaa…t?" She mumbled unintelligently.

He laughed a little bit. "Just a proposition, don't feel pressured in any way…"

"No, no!" She quickly blabbered, almost toppling over in her chair excitedly. "I'm…I'm cool with that! I mean, I love food – lunch, I mean…yeah. I'd love to."

He looked amused by her speech failures. She blushed and had the sudden urge to bury her face in the nearest pillow and scream. However, her fear of accidentally touching and breaking anything expensive in the Agreste mansion trumped her embarrassment.

"I'll call you." He said once he was fairly sure her minor speech lapse was over.

"You…uh, yes. You do that." She shot him awkward finger guns and almost burst into tears on the spot. Why was she such an embarrassment?

His head cocked to the side. "Cab's here."

She looked at him, baffled. "How do you know?"

He shrugged and tapped his ear. "Good hearing?"

She laughed at him, he had a strange sense of humor, but in an oddly comforting, familiar way.

Her smile was inherently infectious, he smiled back. She decided she loved the way his small, pale scar would move with his lips, even though it rested on the side of his chin. It was endearing, and it was sort of…his. Trademarked by Adrien.

She loved the way he made her forget her troubles. Even as he escorted her to the taxi, careful to lean his hand against her back to make sure she wouldn't black out unexpectedly, she could hardly remember the hardships that had plagued her ever since her return to Paris. It was only him, and the way he made her feel.

Before she could even react, he had paid the taxi driver (probably a bit _too_ handsomely, if she may add) and patted the side of the car as she got in.

"I'll see you tomorrow. For lunch." He reminded her kindly, a blinding smile across his face. She couldn't help but share the smile.

"It's a da-" she cut herself off abruptly, horrified that she had almost called it a _date_. Hopefully Adrien had missed that…

She looked up at him with a nervous smile and he stared down at her, smug, like he had _definitely_ caught what she had so un-cleverly tried to cover up.

"It's a _date_." He finished for her, before shutting the door tightly and waving goodbye.

Her heart fluttered. Well, _more_ than fluttered, it practically did an entire cirque du soleil routine.

He _waved_ at her. And she had – a full, confirmed, absolutely 100% genuine – _date,_ with him.

She sunk back into the taxi seat like a happy, melted schoolgirl.

Maybe Paris wasn't all that bad after all.

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 **sorry for shit editing, my eyes really hurt and i only really skimmed it. bleh.**

 **hopefully that was enough let up from the constant inner turmoil. (and for those of you requesting marichat, don't worry, i have something fun planned to work out in a few chapters ;)**

 **THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU GUYS AND THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT! also if ur into all that tumblr jazz and u wanna see my other boring drabbles and rambles, my blog is chatnoirrs (i get it im not creative) and yeahhh leave a review for me or pm me bc im actually super friendly!**


	5. sky's the limit

**welcome back ^-^**

* * *

Marinette knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that dates shouldn't be this stressful.

She had been staring at her closet for god knows how long, trying to perfectly dissect an outfit that Adrien would enjoy, and that would be warm enough to account for the chill in the air, _and_ would be comfortable enough so she wasn't fidgeting throughout the date.

Date. The word itself sent jitters down her spine.

The simple truth was, Marinette had never really been on a date. Well, scratch that, she'd never been on a date with someone she _actually wanted_ to date.

Once, in college, she went on a double date with her friend Marcy to the movie theaters and got set up blindly with a guy who wanted nothing to do with her unless she conceded to letting him slide his hand up her skirt. That date didn't go well for either of them, he went to the hospital with a broken wrist and she ended up ruining the night for Marcy.

Another time, back when she was still in Paris, she'd gone on a date with an akumatized classmate of hers, Nathanael, but that date was promptly crashed by Chat Noir in all his elegance.

So on that brief history, her date with Adrien, a well-respected attractive, polite man, would be a first.

And hopefully, not a last.

Would it be cliché if she wore a dress? Were jeans too casual? Heels would be too much, for sure. Or would they?

Marinette dropped her head on the closet door and moaned. She'd never be good enough for Adrien. He was used to hanging around gorgeous, effortlessly beautiful models who showered him with affection and attention, and didn't take forty minutes to pick an outfit for a lunch date. He deserved a girl who could wear six inch heels to any event, not a girl who struggled with kitten heels on tile floor.

"Cheer up, Marinette!" Tikki encouraged, popping out from within the closet and doing a quick loop-de-loop. "I'm sure Adrien will love anything you pick out!"

"Easier said than done," Marinette grumbled, lifting up a beige sweater before discarding it immediately. Too boring.

"Just pick whatever speaks to you!" Tikki encouraged. Marinette blinked lethargically and scanned her closet once more. Nothing appeared to speak to her, at least, not positively.

"You'd think someone working in the fashion industry would have less trouble with this," she muttered to herself, grabbing a skirt and a shirt and comparing them to each other. You couldn't really go wrong with simple – a loose, short black skirt and a white top. She just had to pray that she wouldn't be as clumsy as she usually was and spill something on the shirt.

"Good choice Marinette!" Tikki admired, but it did little to settle her shaking nerves. She put on the outfit hastily, not wanting to be late in any way, and glanced over her shoe collection to make the next hardest decision of her life.

"It would be completely cliché to wear white shoes with a white top, right?" She asked Tikki hurriedly, shaking her hands like she wanted invisible nail polish to dry.

"Um…I'm not sure…?" Tikki admitted, not particularly well-versed on the subject of fashion, seeing how she didn't wear any clothes herself.

"Well I-"

She heard her phone, which was sitting amongst a flurry of negotiation and concept sketch pages, begin to buzz incessantly. That was a bother. Especially if it was work calling – dear _god_ , it'd be just her luck that she'd be called in to do an arduous favor for her temperamental boss instead of going on a date with her dream man.

She grabbed the phone, (meanwhile unceremoniously knocking over several piles of paper) and hit answer.

"Hello?" She breathed out, hands struggling to pick up the papers she had spilled while balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder.

 _"_ _Marinette. You sound…exhausted."_

Marinette about dropped her phone and all the papers in her hands in shock.

"A-Adrien? Hi! Hi there." She stammered, setting the papers back on her desk and subconsciously smoothing her skirt and messy hair.

" _Hi. You still up for that lunch date?"_ He asked her casually. She almost let out a wheeze of dry laughter. Still up for it? She'd been mentally preparing for it all of last night! Of course she was still up for it!

"Yeah! Uh…definitely." She answered quickly, a smile ebbing at the edges of her lips. This was happening. She was _actually_ going on a date with Adrien. After everything going wrong since her arrival, it was almost surreal that something she'd been dreaming about since adolescence was finally coming true.

" _Great, listen, the place I was thinking of is kind of low-key, I hope you don't mind. I'll text you the address and see you there, ok?"_ Adrien disclosed. Marinette could feel her heart tick like a clock, like his voice cued a flow of adrenaline to course through her veins. She had no idea whether that was a good or bad thing.

"Ok!" She laughed loudly, only to be embarrassed by her outburst a mere second later. Adrien didn't seem fazed.

" _Bye, Marinette._ " He bid her farewell before hanging up. Marinette tried to soothe her erratically beating heart, but soon found it to be fruitless. Adrien. And her. On a real, live, date.

This was happening. And _nothing_ was going to stand in her way.

.

.

.

Was it bad that she was purposely making him wait?

Marinette had arrived at the address Adrien had sent her after only a few minutes of casual walking, the weather was fair and for once, she seemed lucky enough to arrive on time. He had already been there, perched against a chair inside near the wide, steep window that gave Marinette perfect access to admire the sharp curve of his jawbone from across the street.

She stood there, lurking, for a good minute, wondering what he was thinking. Was he nervous? Was he anxious to see her come?

He leaned down and checked his watch, perfect, unfazed expression unchanging while doing so. Completely unreadable, if it wasn't for the way his foot began to tap unconsciously under the table, most likely a habit of nervousness developed back in school.

Feeling her heart flush against her chest and ready to jump out at any moment, Marinette took a leap of faith and crossed the street, ready to travel to the paradise she was never able to reach in her youth.

Her measured breath echoed in her lungs, heartbeat louder than the traffic as she lightly pushed open the glass door to the casual lunch place Adrien had chosen – quiet, simple, elegant. Three words she would've taken any day of the week.

Adrien looked up and waved at her, that same unreadable model face greeting her, if it weren't for the glint of betraying relief in his wild green eyes, she would've never been able to tell if he was serious about the date or not.

Right. _Date_. She would probably never get sick of that word.

She decidedly sat down across from him, trying to mirror his polite, stoic look, before immediately failing to contain her wide rosy-cheeked grin.

His eyes scanned her so quickly she could've blinked and missed it, but his half-smile was a sign of approval she would've killed to receive. There was something so casual and kind about the way he looked at her, it gave her an almost familiar sense of being watched over, like someone had her back, even when she wasn't counting on it.

"You look…lovely." He paused before handing out the compliment, not in a rude way, but in more of a distinctive way – like there were a million words for him to choose from, and he wanted to pick the best one.

"You too. I mean…" Marinette quickly looked down. "You look…nice. Yeah."

He laughed, turning her awkwardness into a plus almost effortlessly.

"So, you've already told me why you left Paris," he said, jumping right into conversation so eagerly, Marinette mentally wondered if he'd been sitting on this conversation starter for a while, "but I want to know what made you choose Lenden Corp.? And how did you get in? I can't imagine Marina Lenden is eager to hand out jobs like this to people as young as you…"

Marinette tilted her head to the side. "Well…I knew Italy would be the next closest place where I could seek out my ideal job in the fashion industry, Lenden being the most famous. I just…immediately began filling out internship applications and, by-the-by, I was actually _accepted_ …and, the rest is history, I guess." She summarized briefly, embarrassed that talking about herself made her feel so vain, even though he had been the one to ask.

"So determined," he mused, curling his lip in a way that made his jagged scar more prominent. Marinette was curious to examine it further, remembering the similar one she had seen on Chat Noir's face, but she immediately swept the thought away, dismissing the thought using the blatant differences between Adrien and Chat Noir as the broom.

"I guess you could say that," Marinette smiled shyly, "what about you? How did you get to be such a successful model?"

He grinned, and that was almost an answer enough for Marinette.

"My friends tell me I have very expressive eyes," he said, widening them for her as she laughed. Clearly, his eyes were only a portion of the reason, but his humbleness served as a vehicle of conversation.

"Is that the reason why, then?" She asked him sarcastically. He nodded vigorously.

"Clearly. Everything else is photoshopped." He admitted sadly, while taking a casual, exaggerated sip of his water.

Marinette pretended to quietly gasp. "You must be the _shame_ of the modeling community."

He nodded gravely. "It's true. I am a complete and utter fake. My only talent is my eyes, and I'm afraid those were inherited."

"And to think, all this time I assumed your modeling career came from your ravishing good looks." Marinette said, cringing internally afterwards. Dear god, she'd admitted she thought he was attractive. Well. Most _everyone_ found Adrien attractive, but that didn't make it any less mortifying.

"It appears the true problem lies within your good faith and poor eyesight." He said sadly, although, the sad tone was accompanied by an untimely grin that obviously appreciated the generous compliment she'd offered him.

"I'm truly sorry to have failed you," she flirted, wishing she had some water as well to quench the dryness in the back of her throat. Being this close to Adrien made her anxious – in the best way, like standing on the edge of oblivion.

"Nonsense," he encouraged her, mirth lit in the surface of his green eyes, "I'd never turn down a compliment, however misconstrued."

"How modest." She commented dryly. He swept his finger across his temple, making her heart stutter a bit. Then, he reached out and waved a waiter over to assist them in ordering lunch, before turning back to her, like she had magnetized his attention with almost no effort. That was new.

"Can I…ask you something?" She wondered aloud, leaning in a bit. He did the same.

"Anything." He disclosed.

"Why did you…ask me to come here?"" She phrased it carefully, too shy to imply that they were on a date directly. He noticed this, raising one eyebrow curiously.

"Why did I ask you on this date?" He rephrased, earning a frustrating blush on her cheeks. Satisfied that he had his answer, he continued. "You've always piqued my interest, Marinette."

She fought the urge to laugh out loud. " _Always?_ "

He looked perplexed by her tone. "Of course. Brave, quiet Marinette was always a mystery to me, although the few times we did exchange words were very…mixed, in my opinion."

"Brave?" She asked, almost cruelly. "I am _not_ brave."

"I beg to differ." He quickly refuted. "You were always so quick to defend your friends. It was admirable, I always respected you for that."

"Well…that's not…"

"You _also_ had a mysterious habit of getting on Chloé's bad side, without being bothered by it." He added mischievously. "You were a force to be reckoned with, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

The way he said her full name sent a pleasing shiver down her spine. Damn him and his incessantly charming qualities.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that I haven't changed much." She informed him, a bit lowly.

"I am," he told her, "I noticed from the first time I saw you back in Paris…"

Touched by his honesty, Marinette opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the waiter asking for their orders. Adrien seemed mildly miffed that their conversation flow had been cut short, but ordered with his model-face nonetheless, not failing to charm the waiter senseless.

"You never stop, do you?" she asked him as soon as the waiter left. He looked back at her curiously.

"The charm." She told him, giving him the don't-pretend-you-don't-know-what-I'm-talking-about glance.

He cocked his head. "Are you saying that I'm a flirt, Marinette?"

"Somewhat." She answered, knowing what a flirt was when she saw one. Adrien's method of flirting was…different.

"Enlighten me." He requested, folding his hands and leaning in.

"You charm everyone you talk to," she said, eyes following the waiter as a hint. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"I assure you, any charm you speak of is purely unintentional." He assured her, before giving her a sideways glance. "…most of the time."

Stunned by his indirect compliment, she looked for a distraction so she wouldn't blush for the _millionth_ time that afternoon. This boy…

After some idle conversation about fashion (which he was acutely keen on – something that made Marinette very enthralled and eager to listen) their food was brought to the table, and they casually ate while making easy conversation.

"So, I know you came back for your job," Adrien stated, leading on, "but are you going to be in Paris permanently?"

Marinette paused, a sense of dread suddenly hitting her like a hail of bullets. There was a very good possibility she wouldn't stay in Paris forever. Marina Lenden could simply tug the leash and Marinette would be pulled back to Milan, away from Paris, and away from Adrien.

"U-um…" she stammered, lifting her head up and shrugging. "I'm honestly not sure! However long this project takes place, I guess…and it depends on if our companies will do more deals in the future…"

Adrien smiled, like someone had flipped the lightswitch on behind his eyes. "I guess we'll just have to make sure our companies stay connected, then."

Marinette smiled, genuine and wide. Adrien had essentially just admitted to wanting her to stay.

Of course, there was the _other_ reason she was in Paris, she couldn't forget that, no matter how many stellar dates she had or how care-free Adrien made her feel.

She took one look at his happy face, and decided that her dying mother wouldn't be a good conversation buffer.

He noticed her face fall a bit without hesitation.

"What's wrong?" He asked her urgently.

"No! I'm fine, I just remembered, that I uh…have some papers to finish! And I'm…not really looking forward to it." She lied easily.

Adrien paused a moment, absorbing her lie. His model face resurfaced, maybe he believed her, maybe he didn't.

Then, he smiled just like before.

"I feel your pain, my…my father appreciates me working holes into my sleeping schedule." Adrien informed her, a hint of steel embedded into his words like shrapnel.

"I know what that's like," she agreed bitterly, remembering all the busywork Marina used to pile on her desk back when she was only an eager intern. Now, at least she was getting paid a decent amount, not that Marina held her any better in her eyes.

He looked at her then, with such weight in his eyes she literally froze beneath his gaze, It was powerful, and commanding. Her eyes focused on his face, capturing every detail, the scar below his lip, the curve of his nose and the crisp gold of his eyebrows.

Wow. He really was a great deal out of her league.

"Marinette," he began, like he had been mulling this over for a good while, "I…I really-"

Her phone rang. Obnoxiously loud. Marinette's breath caught in her throat, desperate to escape into a frustrated scream.

"I'm…I'm so sorry!" She squeaked, fumbling in embarrassment for the device before mentally screaming at the caller ID.

"I-It's Miss Lenden, I-"

" _Understand_." Adrien finished her sentence for her. "Go on, answer it."

"Thank you," she said gratefully before holding her phone up to her ear.

"Hello?"

" _Miss Cheng? It's Lola."_

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. Lola was the kindest of Marina's many secretaries.

"Oh, thank god. What's up?" She asked, trying to tear her gaze away from Adrien, who was watching her intently.

" _Listen, Marina_ _is in the middle of a bitch-fit with one of our top investors because of some press incident – so I'm just here to warn you in case she decides to take out her aggression on you._ "

Marinette inwardly groaned. She was often the emotional punching bag for her boss, a horrible relationship, she knew that for sure, but she would get through any grievances to maintain the possibility of her dream job becoming a reality.

"Thanks for warning me, Lola." Marinette said, sending Adrien a grim look. He nodded in understanding.

" _Also, one more thing. Is there any reason why Mr. Gabriel Agreste himself would call us for your background files?"_

Marinette's blood ran cold.

"My…what?"

" _Yeah, it was really weird. He pretty much demanded for them, and then when Ana asked if he wanted a new negotiator, he yelled at her and said it had to be you, he just wanted all of your information to make sure that you were 'trustworthy'._ "

Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat painfully. "A-Anything else?"

" _Well, he got the files. So he now knows everything about you while you were here. Where you lived, who your friends were, what you did…but I wouldn't worry too much, Wealthy-business types are always paranoid, for god's sake, you've seen Marina!"_

"Right." Marinette replied shakily, trying to sound humorous, although she was really shaken. Why would Gabriel want her _records_? Did he not trust her?

 _"_ _Oops! I gotta go, someone spilled coffee and we have three minutes to clean it up before dear Miss Lenden discovers the new brown stain on her chartreuse carpet. I always knew that was a terrible color choice, it shows all of the dirt. Yuck. Talk to you later, Mari."_

She slowly set her phone down.

Adrien reached his hand out tentatively, towards hers, but hesitated before actually taking them.

"What's wrong?"

"I…um…"

She looked at him and evaluated. Should she tell him about his father and her paranoia? Or should she lie, just like she had been this entire damn trip?

"I just got six more hours of filework." The lie slipped through her teeth before she could catch it. She couldn't stand to see him hurt, and maybe his father's mysterious tendencies would do just that.

He reached for her hand then, clasping them around hers. She could feel their warmth and almost immediately she feared that she might've already been sweating. He was so close, and he smelt like warm cinnamon and everything delicious.

"I'm sorry," he apologized for her sincerely. She wiped off the apologetic look and smiled weakly.

"That's ok, the more paperwork, the longer I stay, right?"

He slowly smiled in realization. "Right."

Marinette didn't dare move her hands, they felt too safe, too warm huddled under his protective ones.

It almost felt like home.

.

.

.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride home?" Adrien asked her worriedly. She could barely stutter an answer – one of his hands was still locked tight around one of hers, like he was afraid to let go.

"I – uhm – sure. My – yes. I'm sure." She spoke, staring at the ground fiercely.

His hand loosened, slowly, like he was savoring the way her hand felt, before dropping it reluctantly.

"If you're sure." He looked up before getting into his car, then, he froze, like someone had shot him in place. His eyes were fixed across the street, paralyzed.

"A-Adrien?" She reached forward, to tug the edge of his shirt worriedly, before following his ridged, angry gaze.

There were a few pedestrians in his line of sight, Marinette could barely focus on who he was so intensely glaring at. There was a mother and her baby, a man on his phone, and another man with dark brown tousled hair, leaning against the store casually like he was waiting for someone.

Marinette tilted her head. The leaning man looked familiar, like she'd seen his face before once in a dream…

"On second thought, I've got some catching up to do," Adrien growled, making ' _catching up_ ' sound more like ' _beating up_ '. Marinette had no doubt that Adrien could win, he was in rather peak physical condition, yet there was something so angry about his stare a stirring worry settled in her gut.

"Wait, Adrien…are you alright?" She asked him, grabbing his arm sent an electric shock up her fingers, his warm skin splayed beneath the pads of her fingers was a rare and exquisite sensation.

He looked back at her, trying to assure her with his steadfast model appearance.

"I just saw an old friend. Nothing serious. I'll call you tomorrow." He looked at her sharply, as if to say, _that's a promise_ , before he took off into a speedwalk across the street.

The man who had been leaning up against the store had vanished.

Puzzled, and a bit startled, Marinette watched Adrien disappear into the crowd before heading on her way home to do imaginary paperwork.

He would understand, if he knew. Right?

.

.

.

"How was your _date_?" Tikki asked her, insatiable thirst for gossip as potent as ever.

"Tikki," Marinette began, swinging her purse into her bed. "It was… _so much happened._ "

As she explained every detail of the date to her kwami, from Adrien's insistent charm to the mysterious leaning man, Tikki looked just as enthralled and confused by the whole situation as she was.

"That's strange," Tikki mused, eyes glazed over like she was in another world. "Gabriel Agreste wanted your files? And a leaning man sending Adrien into a panic?"

"It was weird alright," Marinette agreed, shedding her light jacket and stretching her liberated arms to the ceiling. "But…everything else was _so…_ "

Tikki giggled. "Exhilarating?"

Marinette laughed. "Now _that's_ a word."

Tikki flew over and joined Marinette leaning against the shallow frame of her bed, enjoying the laughter and high spirits the formerly dismal room held.

"From what I've heard, you haven't changed a bit from your head-over-heels fifteen year old self," Tikki teased. Marinette made a sour expression.

"Can you _blame_ me? It's like I've only been getting 50% of Adrien my whole life, and now, I'm getting more and more of him and I…and I…I _hate_ him!" She finished with a shriek. Tikki looked startled, and whizzed behind a pillow in fear that she may throw something.

"I _hate_ him! He's so – infuriatingly perfect!" Marinette yelled, her mood swing so violent even Tikki didn't have any words of encouragement.

"I _hate_ …I…Oh god, Tikki, what do I do? I really like him…I don't know what I'm supposed to do…" Marinette's miniscule rage fit subsided to a calm, simmering fear. Tikki crawled out from behind the dusty pillow and sat on her shoulder.

"Marinette, it's true that you left a lot of loose ends when you left for Italy…" She began, apparently starting from the very root of the problem was her most recent tactic. "And Adrien is one of them that you've managed to tie up. I think, before you can focus on one thing, you need to finish tying up the rest of those loose ends."

Marinette played with the tips of her ling hair, a dark, sheen blueish black in color. Many envied the shade, and she had always secretly adored it. She wouldn't dye it if someone paid her a million euros.

"You're talking about…"

"Yes." Tikki cut her off. Marinette turned away and looked towards the window, remembering seeing Chat Noir for the first time after her return to Paris, a panther gleaming in the starlight.

If there was ever a string she'd left untied…

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" She asked, the words crawling out of her broken lips before any barriers could stop them.

Tikki sighed.

"Hearts are funny things Marinette – they're so easily given, and so easily broken." She whispered. "…but not so easily fixed. Time, is what he needs. And foundation."

"Maybe the better question is, will he listen to me?" Marinette rephrased, looking out the window sheepishly and half expecting him to be there, ready for some amorous mischief.

"I think so," Tikki nodded confidently. "He's still Chat Noir, and you're still Ladybug. He'll listen."

Marinette squeezed her earrings thoughtfully before turning towards her kwami.

"I guess we should get this over with then, huh." Marinette expressed sadly. Tikki gave her a tiny, proud smile.

"One step at a time." She reminded.

"Right. Step one." Marinette repeated. Apologize to Chat Noir. This was going to be as gut-wrenching as they come – even more painful than her last run-in with him, which was, to say the least, agonizing. For her, if not even _more_ so for him.

"Well Tikki…" she swallowed her pride. "Spots on."

.

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 **im sorry for the wait! i was rlly stuck for a while! also sorry if it sucks but im just kind of a terrible writer fun fact**


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